Why I'm yours
by Yourwishisgranted
Summary: A series of drabbles exploring how Bulma and Vegeta fell for each other. Will be ongoing. Will include sexytimes eventually.
1. Study me

"Will you or will you not upgrade the gravity chamber?" He asks, and she could see the restlessness in him. He wouldn't be satisfied with a simple tweak.

But it was a Saturday night and she'd busted her ass all week. He would just have to wait.

"Even if I were insane enough to go along with your demands on a free night, what kind of upgrade are we talking about?"

"600 Gs."

"Ugh no way, bud," she protested, her brows furrowing. "That's the kind of work I can't do right now. Yamcha's been planning a date with me ever since he came back. My dad also wouldn't help you with that because he knows that kind of gravity could crush a person's bones."

"And you think I'm just any person?"

"No-"

"Do you underestimate me?"

"No," she says rolling her eyes. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Do you think," he said, his voice low as he turned to regard her, "I underestimate you?"

Her brow raised, surprised by his angle. "Alright, I'll bite. What the hell are you talking about?"

"When I first saw you I was baffled by your presence on Namek. I had no awareness of your involvement or your motivation for being there; a creature who lacked fighting experience. But now I see your pride clear as day."

"If this is an attempt to study me, you're not doing yourself any favors."

"Why would someone such as yourself go to such lengths, much beyond your comfort zone and into harm's way?" He continued, pacing around her desk with his arms crossed. "Daddy certainly didn't like that, which is why you never left your communication device unattended."

Bulma stiffened defensively. "I was there to save my friends that you killed and to bring back Yamcha."

He laughed, honing in on her discomfort and sneering at her. "Oh please. Spare me that drivel and do save it for your conscience when you sleep at night. Yamcha, you say? That man you speak of so highly which you would discard with great ease? Was that human man on your mind while you were eyeing Zarbon?"

Her eyes widened.

"Didn't think so. No, you're much more calculating than that."

He smirks with keen satisfaction.

"You were on Namek to prove yourself. You see, for all your boasting you lack a clear purpose. Which is why you jumped at the chance to leave this mudball and be something larger than yourself. How nice of them to call you when they need your nimble hands to aid them on their adventures."

"Shut up," she seethed quietly.

"You may lie to the others, but I've been around liars long enough to recognize one when I see it."

He leant forward, placing his forearms on the table.

"For better or worse, you're my patroness and I your muse. Board meetings and leisurely strolls through the park that end in passionless intercourse with your earth man? How inconceivably boring. What a waste of your intellect and your time for these earthlings to overlook such potential in favor of your pretty face."

Bulma froze.

"I've travelled the cosmos and seen feats of technology you assemble in your dreams. You can build anything, can you not? You're itching for it. What a great stab to your pride that such greatness should thrive elsewhere while you squander your talents over here.

It's not for a lack of trying, I know, but daddy can't get the funding from the board to do your research. They won't invest in Dr. Briefs' spoiled brat. Nevermind you have all the qualifications. You're not ready, they say. You're brash, self-involved, and immature...but mostly? You have tits.

No, they can't swallow the thought of a woman as clever as you. They're uninspired and feeble men. So why not have a useless boyfriend? He'll be too taken by your beauty to notice the void inside you; even if it's a vain love, it's all love. Or so you tell yourself. At least then you'll be somewhat appreciated. How could he know you've long settled for disappointment?" His voice lowered an octave. "How could he know he can never fulfill your expectations since you're unsure of what that even means?"

She avoided his gaze as his face neared hers.

"Am I wrong?" He whispered, his dark eyes cutting into her.

She remained silent, neither denying nor confirming his observations.

He stood upright crossing his arms over his bare muscled chest, his gloved hands peeking just below his elbows.

"In summation, you will upgrade the gravity chamber not because I demand it, but because your pride demands it. It pleases you beyond measure to do so; to be held in great esteem for your work."

He picked up a ravaged training bot she'd made him about a month ago.

"These are good," he stated matter-of-factly. The metal giving way under the strain of his crushing grip. "But they can be better."

He placed it on her desk and made for the door of her lab.

"Should you decide to forgo your life of mediocrity," he called out, "I would prefer that you upgrade the GR by tomorrow morning."

Bulma regained her composure and stood up suddenly. "Are you out of your goddamned mind?! That's impossible!"

He smirked. "Thankfully you don't need much sleep in the first place. And your desire to prove you'll have it done before then will quickly overshadow your hesitation."

Damn him. He was right.


	2. Wouldn't you rather be my friend?

"You look like shit," she said when she glanced up from her calculations and spotted him limping past her without a word.

He was in a lot of pain.

She could tell because he remained silent as he took a seat at the kitchen table, her quip having gone unchallenged. His forehead creased with tension and his eyes closed. He was clutching his forearm tightly, his breathing noticeably strained.

"Vegeta," she called. It wasn't particularly uncommon for him to get injured in his training. However, this time he must have really done a number on his body.

His eyes opened. "What?" He rasped.

"Let me see." She looked at him in a way that brooked no argument. No doubt he'd been pushing the GR and the bots to their limits again.

"It's nothing that should concern you," he protested, short of breath. He must have also taken damage to his ribs. "It will heal. I've had far worse."

With that she could agree, taking note of the various scars littering his chest. It didn't mean she would buy any of his bullshit about being okay.

There was a large bruise forming over his ribcage, confirming her suspicion that he broke some of his ribs. His arm was likely injured; at the very least a hairline fracture. No doubt he blocked the bot directly without the use of his chi. There were cuts and bruises on his legs save for his face, where there was only a small cut on his left cheek.

"We both know that this will be easier if you just let me patch you up," she said sharply. "Your pride won't heal your wounds, asshat; at least not the physical ones."

"Leave me-" He coughed and winced.

Bulma was not the type to keep away. "Give me your arm at least, you idiot. I know what I'm doing."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a capsule. Vegeta watched with restrained curiosity as it poofed on the ground and a first aid kit appeared.

"Fixing tech isn't my only specialty after years of hanging out with other knuckleheads that get off being beaten to a pulp."

"I don't require your help," he said gruffly.

Even if he were wheezing and dying in a pool of his own blood, he'd still turn down her help. Arrogant bastard.

"I also specialize in not giving a fuck," she snapped. "Now are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?"

"Fine then! Do as you deem fit if you're so concerned and then leave me the hell alone."

"I will," she huffed. She knelt down and opened the kit, riffling through until she found a sling to hold his arm. She pulled out rubbing alcohol and cotton balls.

"Tch. What primitive medical equipment you earthlings have. It's a wonder you wield the tech for space travel."

She grabbed his injured arm delicately and motioned for him to release his hold. He let out a pained breath as he did. Bulma gasped. His skin was singed and his arm was twisted at an unnatural angle.

"It's bent."

He laughed sardonically. "Are you regretting offering your assistance now?"

"No." Her eyes narrowed with resolve. "I'll just need to straighten it and put on a destabilizer until I can get you a senzu bean. It looks like you fractured your ulna."

"Very well," he agreed, nodding. He braced himself, his chin tensing.

She held his arm out and readied herself. "So what do you have out there for this kind of stuff, tough guy?"

"What?" He asked, momentarily distracted

"This ingenious medical technology you keep gloating about."

"Regeneration tanks. They can bring almost anyone back from the brink of dea-" He grunted in pain as she straightened his limb dexterously without warning.

Clever girl.

She smiled shrewdly, snatching a splint from her kit and pressing it up against the underside of his arm. "You were saying?"

He chuckled genuinely for the first time. "I'll give you credit, woman. I wasn't expecting that."

"There's a lot you still don't expect from me," she replied cheekily, a soft giggle escaping her as she committed his smile to memory. She'd never noticed before, but when he laughed his cheeks formed dimples. It was...cute.

"I suppose you're right," he commented after a pause. "You're far less dainty than you appear."

He observed her work impassively while she cleaned the wound on his arm with alcohol, the stinging barely even skirting his threshold for pain tolerance. What was a little sting and a few broken bones to him anyway when his body had been utilized to carve the very landscape of Namek by his oppressor? She would have been at a loss at how to treat his mangled corpse then.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about what you said." The wheels were turning behind that gaze of hers as she deftly wound a roll of gauze tightly enough to control the bleeding.

"Hn." Well that was certainly interesting. Just how affected was she by his words? Perhaps at the moment she had been paralyzed by her own emotions, but seeing how the GR had not been upgraded she had likely regained her bearings since they last spoke. As expected, she was too proud to accept his demands. A sliver of him respected that. It just wouldn't do if this feisty earthling suddenly caved to his every whim after demonstrating she possessed a backbone. "What do you make of it?"

"Maybe some things I needed to hear." She reached around his neck to tie the sling and slid his arm inside. "But I couldn't help but feel that there's more to the picture."

The lab coat she was wearing opened just slightly as she knelt and leaned over in search of more cotton, revealing a hint of her cleavage. He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of her proximity. He averted his gaze from her chest, forced into looking her in the face. Her eyes were uncannily blue.

"Like what?"

"I make you uneasy," she remarked, pressing the tips of her fingers lightly against his chest in an attempt to gauge his level of pain. "You're not used to someone like me. It's why you don't underestimate me."

He smirked as she grabbed the cotton ball and doused it in alcohol, fixing her attention on the wounds on his chest. "Oh?"

"You've never had a patroness," she said, punctuating her statement with each dab of stinging alcohol on the various abrasions and cuts on his chest. "Just a patron."

She bowed her head forward as she inspected him more closely, her blue hair spilling forward. A sudden urge arose within him to run his fingers through the wavy locks, the texture appearing so unlike his own intriguing to his senses. No doubt it would be smoother than anything he's ever touched.

"Is that all you thought of in the early hours of the morning? And now you think you can brush elbows with me like you have me figured out? I'm disappointed."

"Your pride extends beyond prowess in the battlefield. I'm a smart woman. I could learn just about anything."

"You think I fear you?"

"In a sense. You respect me, despite your usual inclination to avoid that sort of thing."

"You're amusing and you have your wits, but don't go thinking that makes us friends. You're hardly a threat to me."

"Problem is that you're trying to face off against my best bud in a fight to the death after you presumably defeat the androids. You think I'd be okay with that?"

"I don't expect your permission to fight Kakarot. That blood debt is to be settled between us. But it would be interesting to see how you'd try to stop me."

"If _this_ ," she gestured towards his arm and torso, "is what my bots can do, just imagine what I'm capable of."

His smirk was downright wicked, pleased with her suggestion. "Quite ruthless for an earthling. I would accept your challenge."

"Would you fight me if I stood in your way? Deal with me the way you usually do with all your enemies?"

"That would be a crass strategy," he scoffed. "You dare undermine my intellect? You think me such an imbecile that I don't recognize the benefits of your talents. I don't wish to be stranded on this mudball."

"You think I would still help you if you turned on us?"

"You would if you wished for me to spare your planet."

"You're right about one thing. I do have my pride." She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. "I won't be cornered by you or anyone into doing anything I don't want to do. Something you're mistaken to dismiss is that I get what I want eventually. Your brawn's not enough. Even Goku knows this."

"At last I may be speaking to your truer nature." He snickered, his gaze sharp. All thoughts of his injuries inconsiquential as his posture straightened stoutly. "So you've bared your fangs. Do you have a proposition?"

"You could say that."

"And what is it?"

"You'll help me destroy the board."

"Oh?" This _was_ interesting. "Is that all?"

"Not in the way you're thinking. No killing."

"How are we to destroy them then?"

"A bit of fear should do them good. You march in on one of their private meetings and express your displeasure that all my time and effort is being wasted on fixing their amateur crap. I should be properly compensated for all my hard work and be using my talents in the aerospace engineering program."

"If they don't?"

"They'll be seeing you again. And they don't want that. You don't like repeating yourself."

"Why should I follow through with any of this? I'm not your henchman."

"Because I'm willing to play your game. I'll help you achieve your goal of becoming a Super Saiyan."

"Isn't that what you've inadvertently been doing this whole time?"

"No. I've only been helping you get stronger, not transform."

"You know nothing of the legendary."

"I get to know anything I set my mind to. Genius, remember?" She crossed her arms. "If you're cooperative with me, I'll be more cooperative with you. I'll even do that upgrade you've been yammering about. Wouldn't you rather be my friend?"

"I'm nobody's friend. What an inane concept."

She rolled her eyes. "Will you do it?"

He thought it over, not seeing any particular harm in the exchange.

"Very well. I'll only be your accomplice this once, however.."

"Good. Turns out you're not a complete pain in my ass." She grinned. "You know, you still haven't seen my _real_ lab. You sure won't regret keeping my pretty face around once you see it."

"Whatever," he grumbled, making a habitual gesture intended to look like he was crossing his arms. However, he just looked absurd with his slung arm hanging at his side. "Are we finished here?"

"Slow down there, homeboy. You won't be able to train like this. What's the rush? You need to rest now." She winked at him. "You're the only person I know that complains about having a total babe like me patch them up. Are you in that much denial?"

"Tch. Don't get carried away." He looked up his nose at her and shifted in his seat. "You're still a vulgar and generally annoying individual."

"And you're an asshole with an impressive physique. I can deal with that."

He said nothing. He never knew what to say about her brazen flirtation. He supposed it was just her attempts to subvert him. She was certainly well-endowed with gumption for all the tact she lacked.

Suddenly, he felt her grasp his chin.

"What are you-?" His eyes widened.

She tilted his head so that he was facing her. "Now, let's see that cut on your cheek."

He scowled, appalled at her prosentity to grab his royal flesh at every opportunty. "Unhand me at once."

"Ok, so it's not so bad," she murmured distractedly, lightly dabbing the affected area.

Her thumb brushed over his cheekbone lightly, tracing a small faded scar there. It didn't feel...unpleasant. Her face was mere inches away, offering him no escape. In his field of vision he could only note her bright blue eyes framed by long and dark lashes, her pink lips, the delicate shape of her nose, her flawless porcelain skin...

She _was_ pretty. This earthling...

She released him and rose to her feet. "Well, I guess you're okay for now as long as you stay away from the GR until I can get the senzu bean. I'll go ask Krillin."

"How long will this take?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. But I don't want you pushing yourself until I figure it out."

"I'm a saiyan. What do you expect me to do?"

"Rest," she insisted. "Just forget about your masochistic training for a day. Give your muscles some recovery time."

"You pressume much about saiyan physiology. Besides, I don't need rest."

"Too bad I don't give a shit."

Bulma saw the subtlest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as though he couldn't contain himself. She put her supplies away and poofed the kit, a smile of her own curling at the edges of her mouth.

"I'll be checking up on you, space man. Don't fuck up my handiwork."

"Hn."

Bulma sauntered out of the room feeling rather smug that he listened to her for once.

Little did they know what had transpired that day would seal their fate.


	3. Earth Bound

"Now Harvey, this is no laughing matter," spoke a gray haired and bearded member of the board. "We'll be losing all our zeni if we give in so willingly to Dr. Brief's inclinations. Lately all he and his daughter concern themselves with is expansion into space exploration efforts and space travel innovation. Some of that is neccesary to maintain the reputation of Capsule Corp within the scientific community, but at the end of the day we are a business. We sell capsules, advanced household supplies, and weapons. I'll not squander our assets so willingly on a gamble. This proposal reeks of Dr. Brief's spawn."

"But he is adamant about this, sir. He'll put his foot down and throw around his influence in his favor. The public is far too fond of the Briefs; especially her. A word from her would not do us any good."

"As far as we're concerned she's all bark and no bite. Just some diva galivanting around with daddy's money crying 'chauvinism.' She has nothing on us."

"We also have to remember what happened in East City. Those freaks levelled the whole thing down and fought off the military effortlessly. While I see your point, I also understand where she's coming from. If such a thing were to arrive again, what would be our defense without having any knowledge or leverage in such matters? Other companies are signing the United Republics Initiative to fund these projects. We can't fall behind."

"Agreed." Vegeta hovered midair outside the open window of the conference hall. The men all gasped collectively in terror when he flew into the room and landed swiftly atop the long mahogany table. "Well put, earthling. Harvey, was it?"

He swallowed nervously. "Uh-um-"

"Nevermind. Don't care."

He surveyed the room and glanced at the faces of each of the privileged men in the room. They were as cold-blooded as Frieza; above all, businessmen invested only in acquiring more material wealth.

"Who the hell are you?!" The older man with a beard cried. He was afraid, but certainly more brazen than the rest of the lot. "I will call security to remove you if you don't leave instantly!"

"You'll do no such thing if you value your pathetic hides."

"How dare you threaten us?!"

Vegeta grinned menacingly and shot a beam of ki through the center of the table. A waft of smoke rose from the singed wood.

They all cowered away in fear.

"You see that, weakling? I need lift only a finger to do the same to your face. I'm willing to be diplomatic if you just behave. So what will it be?"

The man's eyes widened and he broke out in a sweat. Brazen, but not stupid enough to push more.

"Anyone care to listen to what I have to say in all of this, seeing as how I'm the living proof of your inadequacy to fend off intergalactic threats?"

He was met with their silent stares. A pleased chuckle escaped him.

"No objections? Good choice." He smirked, crossing his arms over his plated chest. He had taken great pains to wear his full standard armor at Bulma's insistence. "The first condition is the retrieval of your communication or recording devices. You'll give them all to me. Now."

Not to be told twice, they all hurriedly threw them on the table. He appraised them stoically as they did so, wondering what was taking the woman so long.

"I know what you're wondering. 'Could it be?,' you ask. Yes, I am that intruder directly tied to the crater in East City. That hopefully gives you some idea about what I'm capable of."

"What?!" The one named Harvey pulled at his hair. "We're all going to die!"

"Shut up." Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "I didn't give you permission to speak."

The others beckoned the panicked man to pull himself together.

"Consider yourselves entirely fortunate that this facility holds my interest and that the work of both of the Briefs is essential to me. You see, this woman you have deemed a nuisance had the mind to negotiate terms. She'll provide me with all the necessary means to become stronger and thus defend this mudball from threats.

I no longer have the desire to destroy your world. Nevertheless, that could change if you don't make some necessary alterations. You'll be the first to answer if you fail to follow through with my demands."

The men listened attentively.

"If the Briefs are not compensated for their work or fail to complete their progress in the aerospace program because of your meddling, I'll know. You will fund the aerospace program, equiping it with a full staff to aid their efforts. Are we understood?"

"Did she put you up to this?" One of them asked. "That scheming bitch. It was only a matter of time until she screwed us over."

"Obviously, jackass." Bulma sauntered up to the table assuredly, dragging out the tension in the room. "Just to make this a little more painful for you, you'll refer to me by my proper title, Dr. Briefs."

She laughed.

"To think that you plebs actually believed you could have your way when I was gone for a year, daring to sign all kinds of paperwork behind my dad's back." This was the kind of stand-off she'd been fantisizing about for awhile now. She knew her dad wouldn't approve, but oh well. "This is merely retribution for the complete pain in my ass you've been."

She was dressed in sleek business attire: a black pencil skirt that reached just above her knees, a matching blazer, and a white shirt that hugged her ample bust. Her tousled, blue curls framed her face tastefully and her lips were stained a blood red.

Vegeta supposed she was donning her own armor. He didn't particularly understand the purpose of the high heeled shoes. Nevertheless, he couldn't argue with the results. She looked rather imposing in them and they accentuated her shapely legs.

It was not unattractive.

She smiled devilishly. "Now boys, let's discuss the terms of your surrender and end this little war you've waged."

It then occured to Vegeta that if it were not for all the political maneuvering involved in these negotiations, she would have long ago decimated these fools.

* * *

Later that night, there was a knock at his bedroom door.

Vegeta, only just exiting the shower, grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around his waist. As he'd come to learn, the culture of this group of humans was squeamish about nudity. Not that he particularly cared.

"What?" He opened the door abruptly, wishing for some quiet after a hard day of training.

Bulma stood in her fuzzy pink robe and a clipboard in hand. Startled, she glanced up from her notes.

She regarded his state of undress and wet hair inquisitively. "Shower, eh? Didn't know you were busy."

He rolled his eyes, shifting his weight against the doorframe. "First thing you concern yourself with upon my return to this mudball is my hygiene. Do you object to that now?"

"No," she said slyly, glancing at him in a way he knew could only mean she was about to make some sort of vulgar jest. "I don't object to being greeted by a guy with a glistening, muscular chest. I'm a simple girl."

He looked away, suddenly rethinking his choice of presentation. Usually it meant nothing to the others surrounding him, but here it apparently held great significance in human interaction.

She laughed at his beffudled expression.

"I know you can't help yourself since I'm gorgeous and whatnot, but I'm just teasing so don't go thinking anything inappropriate. Yamcha and I still haven't officially called it quits, even if you think he's useless."

"Tch. Just as ludicrous as ever." He looked up at her from his nose. "If you have nothing but poorly formulated comments for me, then I'll return to my own devices."

He turned on his heel swiftly, offering Bulma a rather nice view of his backside.

It was a shame he was such an asshole.

"Jeez, no need to be so salty," she called out. "I came to share the logistics of this upgrade."

He stopped in his tracks. "What do you have?"

Bulma took that as good as any invitation she'd get and followed him inside.

"I did the calculations so it's theoretically possible to do this thing without you turning into a Saiyan pancake."

"Then you can make it happen."

"Theoretically."

"I didn't ask for a maybe. I asked for certainty." He glanced back, sneering haughtily. "Are you admitting your numbers are flimsy?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't insult me. If it's my numbers it'll happen, tough guy. Unless I change my mind."

"You're far too invested in this project now, earth woman." He chuckled, a faint smirk curling his lip as he reached for another towel from the closet. "You love to stoke the flames of danger just to sate that never ending curiosity. How else are you to cure that chronic boredom?"

He dried his hair with the towel, his biceps flexing languidly. He looked somewhat less severe with the wetness weighing down some of his hair over his forehead. She almost laughed when she noticed that his hair naturally rose up into its customary spikes as soon as it dried. Interestingly, she noted, while most of it was jet black like Goku's, some of the strands had a peculiarly reddish-brown tint under the glare of the light.

Bulma tried (with very little success) not to stare as the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen rippled with his motions. Rivulets of residual water drops glided down his bronze torso and past his navel, disappearing beneath the towel which hung loosely around his hips, precariously close to sliding off and resisting the pull of gravity by mere chance.

She's seen many muscular men in her life, but there was something particularly beautiful about his build. It was like witnessing a lion or a jaguar in their prime; majestic, graceful, and lethal. Even knowing they could rip out your jugular at a moment's notice, you could never tear your eyes away.

She felt her cheeks heat and redirected her attention to her clipboard. "You're hardly one to talk. You do the same for your pride," she retorted after a moment.

"Well we already know all about your pride, _Dr._ _Briefs_ ," he taunted knowingly.

She raised her chin, silently imploring him to dare to mock her further.

He tossed aside his extra towel and sat at the edge of his bed, a look of sudden impatience touching his features. "So you've done your calculations, but I sense you have something more pressing to share. Otherwise I'll have to cut this chat short. Can't give you the impression we're pals now, can we?"

Yep. Asshole. "You know, I take solace in the fact that my creations punch and scorch you on a daily basis."

His brow arched, unamused.

She sighed. "If I'm doing this upgrade, the GR will be out of commission for at least a week or more."

"You work quickly enough. You'll have it finished sooner than that, surely."

"I do have a life, buddy," she huffed.

"At any rate, what am I to do without the training equipment?"

"I dunno. Train without it? Goku and Gohan do that."

At the mention of Goku's training regimen, he scowled.

"Hey," she said, waltzing up to him. "Maybe you could take this opportunity to check how far you've come with the training you've already done. After all, you're going to be fighting the androids in normal gravity. Even if you're not a super saiyan yet, you must have quadrupled your potential since you got here."

He crossed his arms indignantly. "Just do what must be done."

"Yes, _your majesty._ One gravity room with 600 gs coming right up. Not groundbreaking science pushing the limits of knowledge and physical constraints or anything."

"Your sarcasm is unnecessary," he remarked seriously.

"Uh, it isn't? It's not like you're asking me to do something simple."

"I'm aware, but I wouldn't have asked you if I were not certain you could. You've proven you're capable of such feats."

Bulma was flattered that he genuinely thought so highly of her abilities and even vocalized it.

"Oh." She played with her pen, unsure what to say. "Well..." Her gaze met his. "I know that you're capable of becoming a super Saiyan."

"Hn. No need to get all sentimental." He rose to his feet, his stance dismissive. "I'll be waiting for you to fulfill your end of the deal."

The guy practically mastered the art of brushing off with an air of regality unrivaled by anyone she'd ever met. Partly out of curiosity and partly because nothing pleased her more than pulling the son of a bitch down to earth, she leant towards him and pecked him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Vegeta," she breathed, thrilled by the rattled look on his face. She was surprised by how much excitement it elicited within her. "For today, I mean."

The soft graze of her lips was brief, but he drew away instinctually. "Tch! What are you doing?"

It was too easy.

She giggled. "Did I give you cooties?"

He scowled and rubbed his face, trying to extinguish any trace of her from his skin. "Do all earthlings express their gratitude this way?"

"Nope. It's just fun to fuck with you."

"W-what?" He reared back in shock. "How dare you imply something so obscene?!"

"Excuse my earthling vernacular."

"Leave me be, vulgar woman."

"Alright," she sighed dramatically, spinning on her heel. "I guess the fun's over."

She had just reached the door when his voice halted her.

"Wait," he called, the inflection in his voice denoting his dissatisfaction. "Before you depart, I'd like to understand something."

Taken aback, she peered over her shoulder at him. He stood behind her, his hand clenching the door knob and his ebony eyes fixed intently on her. His visage then appeared stone-like, his countenance fully guarded.

"Space travel is not new to your family. Your mother, of all people, informed me that your sister dwells in different planets. She left this one. Yet you remained."

"Yes."

"I was once planet bound, but a life without high stakes or my pride would not be worth living. The illusion of civilization is destroyed with time. The alternative life is your predicament; trapped in a mudball with very little advancements, compartmentaliszing my days around some socially constructed schedule, partaking in mundane tasks..."

"So?" She blinked as if in a stupor. This was so unlike their usual interactions.

"So how could you bear it? Especially after your own discovery that nothing has permanence. Or can you?"

She'd never thought of earth that way. Of course she was a scientist, but at the end of the day, it was her home. "Because it has meaning to me."

His eyes glazed over then, as if he were retreating into himself.

"The only meaning I've known all my life is that I'm Prince Vegeta and that I was destined to be a great warrior as my father, the late King Vegeta intended."

Somehow she felt she'd disappointed him in her response, like he was silently reaching out to her in the only way he could. It almost seemed like he wanted...reassurance? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Perhaps, then, you'll come up with some compelling argument for why this planet or the millions of others like it are worth this much effort to defend; why any of this has any meaning. Why...you're earth bound."

Her mouth moved as if to say something else, but all she could muster under his scrutiny was a lame, "Sure. Good night, Vegeta."

He shut the door just as swiftly as he had opened it.

And just like that she was left with the disquieting silence of the hallway, any evidence of their interaction already obscured by the passing minutes.

Bulma remained where she stood, her mind drawing a blank at this mysterious dimension of his character that he had chosen to reveal to her.

Her heart squeezed at the thought of what that could mean.


	4. Gratitude

**A/N:** **what up fam? I know it's been awhile, but school be hella demanding. Just a reminder that this is a drabble series so this is moving around different moments of their relationship. It may not always be in order. This one in particular is a fast forward and sometime after the GR blew up. Please R &R and let me know what you think! :)**

 **Fair warning: this is fluffy as fuck**

* * *

"Well, here you are again. Can't stop training even if it kills you."

"Bulma," he called out.

"You know, you're completely clueless."

"I spoke out of turn."

That gave her pause for a moment. "All I know is you came into my office one day wanting my help and then you pushed me away. You were cruel and dismissive, acting as if you almost blowing up was no big deal." Her voice rose with indignation. "But you're right, I've been kidding myself thinking we could get along. You prefer being alone. I hope you got what you wanted from me."

He rose up to sit on the bed, wincing as he did so.

"Hey take it easy! You're still really beat up, idiot!"

"Stay," he insisted, straining with the effort of holding himself up. "I...would rather you stay."

"Why?"

He said nothing, seemingly confused by his own request. Why did he want her there?

"Because I'm a fool."

Because he can't stand his own thoughts. Can't bear his self-imposed isolation any longer.

"What?" She balked, looking at him as if he'd suffered brain damage.

"I want you to."

He was unsure of where his thoughts led him. He only knew an inescapable darkness lurked, shrouding his mind and his spirit the moment he turned her away; a heavy weight on his conscience weighing him down with remorse that could only be aleviated under the sanctuary of her blue gaze.

Her face had haunted him all the way up until he got injured again. He never wished to relive that look of disappointment.

"Vegeta?" She looked concerned.

"Stay."

Her rage seemed to deflate all at once, her bewilderment softening her. "I'll uhm, get some calculations I need to work on."

...

The sound of the pencil scribbling on paper was soothing. He observed her quietly, paying close attention to how she absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair while she was focused on finding a solution. How she tapped the pencil on the page when she was contemplating something.

"Hey you. Thought you were asleep." Her eyes scrutinized him disapprovingly.

She was surprisingly observant.

"Your human drugs are weak. I've spent a good portion of my life being fed a cocktail to induce artifical stasis."

"Guess I have to tell the doctors to take it up a notch."

"Hn."

"How are you holding up?" She asked, setting the notebook aside.

"I've had much worse than this."

"I can't imagine what that could have been."

She was right about that. His jaw tightened.

She could never envision the visceral sensation of beatings that left you gasping, begging for the cold release of death as your life essence was drained out of you. The ringing in your aching, pounding head as you tried to make sense of where your body began and ended. You could not object. You were powerless to prevent the crushing of your bones, the near death-inducing asphyxiation. The only respite from your agony being the loss of consciousness or the sensation of departing from your body altogether, until you were merely a spectator to the events unfolding on your wordly vessel.

No, that wasn't him. That was some other pathetic weakling.

'I-I won't d-do it ag-ain.'

'You disappoint me!'

His guardian watched, never once leaving his post to interject. He awaited for him to rise from the dead. Useless. Worthless, maggot.

Hate welled up inside him. For him. For his father.

How many more times would he let him die?

"I'm sorry," Bulma says suddenly, bringing him out of his stupor. "I didn't mean to remind you of something painful."

"I can handle pain. It's nothing but a sensation. It means nothing."

"I know, tough guy." She doesn't press further, understanding that they have very different ways of looking at things. "How about we talk about something else?"

Vegeta blinks at her, entirely caught off guard. Since when did she ever agree with him? Nevertheless, he felt relieved and grateful. He did not wish to elaborate on his experiences and he knew she had a way of compelling him to speak.

"Who am I kidding? You're not the chatty type. Maybe I can put on a movie since neither of us is doing what we're supposed to."

He didn't object to her suggestion.

"Right. I'll go get something from our collection." She rose from her seat and made for the door. "I'll be right back."

After he heard the click of the door, he eyed the notebook laying on the edge of the table. He was curious about her work. With a grunt, he sat up and grabbed it.

He flipped it open. His fingers traced the fresh ink of her calculations. He stopped when he noticed an illustration in the corner of his armor. No, not his armor, but an upgraded look. On the next page she'd drawn him wearing it. The drawing was detailed, going so far as to include his facial features. He looked powerful, regal even. The stance was proud and unapolagetic. Was this how she viewed him?

This was a long way from the man he thought he was before coming to earth. That man died on Namekian soil. He was alone and worthless now. Outclassed by an earthling. A complete failure to his father.

He flipped back a few pages and found more illustrations of himself on the corner of a page. Him, leaning against a tree, frowning. Him staring up at the sky with a question mark next to him. And then the final was him staring forward with a smirk. Out of all the drawings it was the most generous. He was in earthling garbs, yet he looked the most confident. His eyes seemed to be the focus of the piece. Particular attention was put into outlining his cheekbones, his jawline, and the shape of his mouth.

It was an attractive depiction of him. He looked content and sure of himself. Like he could walk beyond the pages and say or do something bold.

"No, mom. I'm probably not coming up until later." He heard the woman's steps approaching the door. "Yeah I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

Not wanting to be caught looking at what he sensed was private, he put the book back where it was and laid down once more. He felt his face heat in chagrin.

Bulma strode into the room just as he settled down.

"Hey, sorry that took awhile. My mom sent us some food since it's dinner time. Bet you're starving."

His stomach rumbled as soon as he registered the aroma.

She grinned and handed him a bowl. "Bon apetit."

...

Thirty minutes into the movie, Vegeta scoffed, "This man has the most absurd disguise."

She giggled. "Yeah superman's pretty dumb."

"And all the other humans fall for it."

"Eh, I can forgive it since this movie's supposed to be campy."

"Campy?"

There was a scratching noise at the door and then a tell-tale meow.

Bulma smirked. "It seems you have a visitor."

Scratch poked his head in, his green eyes wide as he stalked towards them.

"Come over here, kitty," Bulma cooed.

But scratch's gaze was set on Vegeta.

Without warning, he jumped up on the bed.

Vegeta rose with a startle. "Oh no, little feline. I am not one to coddle."

Bulma laughed. "He likes you."

Scratch yawned, stretching and curling up by his side.

"Hn. Sly little bastard." He sounded irritated, but he didn't seem to mind the cat too much. When Scratch didn't stir, Vegeta resigned himself to its wishes and lay down once more.

Bulma tried to contain herself, not wanting to spoil the moment. This was too much. None of her friends would believe her.

Vegeta for his part found the creature to be warm and pleasant against his side.

Onscreen, the hero of the story stroked Lois' cheek tenderly and pressed his lips against hers passionately. Again, that human gesture which he's caught Bulma swooning over before.

Bulma wasn't watching the movie anymore. She sat quietly, once again writing in her little book. She tapped the pencil against her lips, deeply focused in her thoughts.

He felt an irrational urge to know what secrets he could draw from those pink lips.

What other ways did she think of him, he wondered? Did she think of him outside of their interactions, at night when the day's labors weren't a distraction?

Did she look at the drawings and trace the jawline of that Vegeta wondering if he would do something bold? The thought made his heart race.

Perhaps his condition was making him have idle thoughts.

He could feel his body drifting off. Maybe those earthling drugs were starting to kick in after all? He was so exhausted now that he thought about it. His lids fluttered. So tired.

He fought it, needing to pry an answer from her.

"Why...do you care?"

She looked up from her book. "What kind of question is that?

"You always help me. Why?"

"Obviously I can't just let you die, jerk. Even if you are infuriating."

He laughed weakly, a kind of euphoric giddiness overcoming him. "Right. Never met anyone like you. So caring, smart a-and...beautiful."

She seemed flustered by his comment. "You're really high right now, aren't you?"

In his daze, he reached up unsteadily and cupped her cheek. He tilted his head to stare directly at her.

"Thank you," he managed to say.

How lovely she looked flushed. He was at a loss as to how his touch could accentuate such beauty.

She squeezed his hand and smiled warmly in response, voice quiverring with emotion when she replied, "You're welcome."

As he nodded off, she lowered his hand onto the bed gently. Scratch curled up even closer against his leg, purring contently. Vegeta fell into a peaceful slumber.


End file.
